The Dark occurrences of Svartediket
by Nocturlos
Summary: In a story based on historical happenings, detective Basil Ikum is given the task of uncovering the disappearance of a young local priest, last seen by the church house at the banks of Svartediket. However, he's not the only one vanishing without a trace.
1. Prologue: Innferd

p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; font-family: 'Dragonbones BB'; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"The Dark occurences of Svartediket/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"The tarn which had devoured the last sigh of the dead, should now swallow the thirst of the living./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 324.0pt;"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Just Bing, 1916 /span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Prologue: Innferd/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Bergen/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Bryggen/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"1857/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Autumn/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Friday/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"The life on the Western coast of Norway had always had me relaxed. Sure, it was one of the biggest cities in the country, and there is sounds of people everywhere – which is something I hate by the way -, whether it's from the docks, where ships and boats of various shapes and sizes come by almost every day to deliver their fish to the Hanseatic warehouses, or chanting children in the courtyard during the day, switched by cutthroats and low-lives during the night. But there is something by the Western coast that has always enchanted me. Maybe it's the smell? The thick black tar smeared into the wooden planks of every board in the docks, the salt coming from the ocean, and the humid air, the constant raining… It does something to you. It calls to you. Wants you back where you belong. I had tried having an office in the midst of the capital, Kristiania, but he had to give up after two months. It was too stressful. First of all, the office was too far off into the heart of the city. The weather was too stable; too much sun and too much heat, and the chanting of people was triple the amount than here in Bergen. It was just too chaotic. I could barely focus on my investigations. I was about to go mad in the end, and had to walk out every day, and take a walk down to the fjord just to get a taste of what I once knew. My old days of being a small boy, growing up near Fimreite, playing outside with my childhood friends during the summers reappeared. Even though those days seems so far away from me now, and I barely can remember anything of it, I knew I had to return to it. Stay there. It's strange, really. So much of what my life once was has begun to vanish from me. It's like… I hold my life dearly, but can barely remember it. But I digress./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanSo therefore, I decided to move back to the West. This little loft I am renting here in the newly named "Unicorn courtyard" isn't much, but it's just enough to room a slim bed, a desk, and a small window leading out towards the docks. I've been here for a couple of days, and It seems very relaxed around here. What has stricken me the most, however, is the number of prostitutes there is here. Poor souls, they are. May our lord promise them a better life in the halls of the fallen. If anyone, they are fighting the grandest of all battles. No one to tend for them. No one to care for them, and no one to help them. Abused to the unrecognizable, even by authorities. I swore to myself I would never lay hands on them in such a matter. Show them some dignity. That's why, while I was outside during the night lighting my pipe, when one of them came up to me, instead of doing what most shameless men in this town would do, I just gave her a pouch of 4 speciedaler. She was flabbergasted. Can't blame her, as she only looked like she was 17 years of age, and given the conditions you'd have to grow up in to become such a thing, you'd have never seen such amounts of money./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Long story short, I offered her to take shelter at the loft for the night, but curiously enough, she didn't leave the next morning. She wanted to stay. So because of that, I took her in as my assistant. She's a bright mind, I give her that. Her name is Amalie./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"It was one of those typical heavy rainy days, usually experienced in the city engulfed by the seven mountains. Not that it Bothered Basil the least. In fact, it seemed to soothe him. Sitting behind his desk, suckling on his pipe, while writing in his diary what had occurred during these first few days in his new residence. The big rain drops splashed against the roof, making a sort of rhythm, and it caught Basil. Making him close the diary, and take down his guitar hanging over the door. Sitting there in his chair, he would start composing another one of his spontaneous, but equally beautiful melodies. Something he would do when he was bored and had nothing else to do. As a detective, it would seem contradictory to settle down in a calm place, but that was how Basil was as a person, liking both action, and calmness. Amalie, lying opposite to him, seemed to be at peace as well, sleeping very heavily. Since he had settled in, no reports had been handed to him by the police or by the local townsfolk. Everything seemed to be at peace./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Until suddenly, loud stomping that would have been able to awaken the Jotun himself could be heard in the wooden staircase, causing Basil to strike a false chord. He put the guitar away and stood up from the chair. Then a bombardment of heavy knocks came onto the door, causing Basil's ears to stand right up, and Amalie to sit up in her bed, rubbing her eyes. "What's going on, Mr. Ikum?" She asked with her soft voice. "I don't know." Basil replied. "But whatever it is, it sounds like whomever is behind that door is running from the Devil himself. Let's see what this is all about now in the middle of the night." /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"He walked over to the door and opened it. In came a soaking wet man with his ears hanging low from the water, clutching his wool jacket that was wet through and through, with his tail hanging after him like a rope. "Detective Ikum, is it?" The man stammered out in panic, almost choking on the words. "So, so, now, mister." Basil said calmly, trying to calm down the panicked man who shivered from the cold rain. He helped him off with the jacket, and offered him a blanket made from very crude, but warming wool. "Sit down here, try to relax, and I will find something to calm the nerves." Basil went over to the cabinet beside his bed, opened it, and took out a bottle with a clear liquid, named aquavit, alongside with a small glass./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;""Here. Have this." He said, offering the man a drink. He took it, but he was still shivering so much that he was near to spill it all over himself. Eventually he managed to swallow it down. It made him cough a little, and his throat burned a little. However, it made him relax a bit more, and the shivering started to recede. Basil sat down opposite to him, and lit his pipe, bringing forth his big case book, fresh from the department. "Now, good mister, please tell me your name and age." Still stammering a little, the man told him so. "Jakob…D-Deinaren. I-I'm 35." Basil calmly wrote it down with his pencil, taking his time, before looking up at Jakob, saying: "Well, Mr. Jakob. What can I help you with at this hour, when the entire city is asleep?" Poor Jakob, a grown man, was on the brink of crying. But he tried to hold it back as good as he could. But it was an odd type of crying, and Basil recognized it almost instantly. Jakob wouldn't have needed to tell him what had happened. He knew it already. "My son…Oh, my little son…My only son…is gone!"/span/p  
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	2. Chapter 1: A valley of ice

About an hour afterwards, Jakob left Basil with his ears a bit more lifted, still worried about his son, whose name he had told Basil was Theodor, but nonetheless reassured that Basil would find him. The rain had worn off a bit, so his walk back to Lungegaarden would be a lot easier. He had told Basil that he would pray to God for him to find Theodor, But Basil didn't give it much of a thought. That people wanted to worship the Christian way, he was okay with. That was their business. Yet still, he didn't attend church, read the Bible, or sing any psalms. He didn't even pray. Most of them, he had forgotten by purpose. During the national romantic period from the decade before, Basil had begun to pick up more and more interest in Norway's old pagan roots. Stories about the many Gods of Ásgard, Þórr, Óðinn, Loki, and Freyja were far more interesting, more immersive, and more captivating than any of the Biblical stories he had been presented with as a child.

When the stomping from the staircase had ended, Amalie crept out of bed and leaned over the desk where Basil was still taking notes of what Jakob had given him of info. He had a bit of a grimace around his face, seen as he had to give away his entire bottle of aquavit, a gift he had been given at sea almost four years ago. Like the captain said, it had always brought him good luck, and it had become something of a charm to him.

"Mr. Ikum?" Amalie asked carefully as to not startle him, clutching her nightgown because of the chilly air. He seemed to be heavily concentrated, rhythmically suckling, filling the room with a smell of tobacco. When he heard the soft voice, he looked up from his case book and put it away. "Was there something you wanted, Amalie?" he asked in return, quietly. "I was just wondering, why would someone be in such panic. I-I couldn't hear much of what was said between you two. My ears have grown less sensitive sleeping around in noisy places."

Basil was quiet at first, feeling sorry for Amalie. How horrible it must have been for her to roam the streets at night, trying to find a place to sleep. Bless that she now had a roof above her head. "His son is gone," Basil said, blowing out a final cloud of smoke before putting out the pipe. "He was supposed to come home for the weekend earlier today from the church home in Isdalen where he works as a teacher, but he never showed up. People knowing him are starting to get worried. Some are even fearing the worst, what now that might be." Basil explained in a serious tone.

Amalie, feeling a little icy in her feet, grew worried as well. "What are we going to do about it, Mr. Ikum?" she asked, anxious in her voice. "Nothing." Basil replied getting up from his chair. "Nothing?" Amalie asked with her ears standing right up all of a sudden, a bit baffled over what Basil had said. Didn't he care? "Nothing now, at least," Basil added. "It's too late to do anything about it now, but first thing tomorrow, we'll go to this Lungegaarden and see what we can gather of information from the people who know him there. But now, it's off to bed. It's way beyond sleep hour." "Okay." Amalie replied, returning to bed, creeping under the warm wool blanket. "But Mr. Ikum…sorry to be so inconvenient, but do you think you could play a bit more on your guitar? Your tunes always make me fall asleep so much more easily." With a small sigh, Basil took off his coat and hung it on the chair. Then he sat down, picked up the guitar and began to play another one of his spontaneous hymns. It didn't take long before Amalie's heavy sleeping became audible, and carefully and sneaky, Basil hung the guitar back on its place, before he undressed, blew out the lights, and went to bed.

A seagull sitting on the roof awoke the two the next morning with its vicious and high-pitched howls. Then another joined in, and another two after that. In addition to that, a lot of hammering could be heard just outside. Basil grunted and sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes. Then he checked the pocket watch he had in his brok. It showed a quarter past seven in the morning. It was early in the autumn, and a fairly clear sky this morning, so a few sun rays came through the sleek window, lighting up the place a little. Basil got out of bed, stretched a little, and then began to dress up in his cotton brok, his white shirt that he got for his konfirmasjon at the church, a pair of embroidered suspenders, as well as a light coat he got in London. In the inner pocket was a magnifying glass, and above it was a few empty holsters made for holding pistol ammunition, however they and the pistol – an m1842 – was safely hidden in his desk's tray.

"Amalie? Amalie! Wake up." Basil whispered, gently pushing Amalie in her shoulder. She was sleeping like a rock, and she gave off sounds as if she was snoring lightly. She would not awake from Basil's attempt. But that didn't stop him. "Amalie!" he said at a moderate volume. This time there was a response, but only in the form of a light shrug, and Amalie turning away from him. Basil clenched his teeth. If only this loft had had a water tap. Then he would have given her a proper wake-up call. With a heavy sigh, he stood up and left through the door, scaling the key under the door after locking it. _Sov godt._ he thought to himself, walking down the stairs and out into the narrow passage that would take you out to the docks one way, or up to a tobacco shop just beside the remains of what was once an inn that burned down at the beginning of the 1700s. Nothing had been done to resurrect it or the other buildings in this area who were harmed.

When Basil exited the arc taking him to the docs, he saw the shadow of a horse on the ground that hadn't been there before. Then he looked up, and there he saw a unicorn standing on a newly raised canopy, with its forelegs raised. So that was why there was such hammering when he awoke. It was brown, with a golden horn and…enormous balls. Basil couldn't help himself but grin, as he thought of what the carver must had thought when he decided to include its gigantic club and all. But no time for joking around now. He had to get to Lungegaarden and see if he could get some clues as to what could have happened to young Theodor. Ropes and pulleys, wood boards and bollards creaked and chirred on the docks as the boats swayed on the small waves, and there was moderate activity on the docks as well. The ships hadn't returned yet, but there were a lot of preparations to do before so. Barrels were stacked and placed on horses, whose clopping made a delicate rhythm against the cobblestone, mice were shouting and giving out orders, ropes were coiled up, and the crane sheds were given a look over. In the meantime, Basil wandered down towards the square alley, that would take him to Lungegarden, and the small collection of houses just down by that Jakob had told him about. He and his family would be to fin in one of them. However which one, he had forgotten to tell him. So this was on pure guess.

After a while, having taken a left turn, he could see the tiny Lungegard lake up ahead. And the far side lay a monastery, and what could possibly be the biggest private residence in Bergen. It sat on a small hill, and down by, were a group of smaller houses. Probably Deinaren would live in one of them.

The first house door he knocked on was opened an old woman clad in what could only be described as dusty rags, with a scarf around her shoulders. Her fur was thin and wrinkly, and her tail…it looked like the skin on it could be peeled right off. Basil tried his best to remain calm, although this lady's appearance scared him. "G-good morning, Frue." Basil said, doing a short bow "I am Basil Ikum, newly designated detective by Lensman Sebastiansensen. I am looking for the Deinaren family. I need to talk to them as soon as possible." His speech was bit faltering, and it didn't make things any better that the old lady was staring at him with the same expression the entire time, not changing it the least. However, when Basil mentioned Deinaren, as if she had suddenly been taken by Death himself, her jaw dropped and her smile disappeared, looking as if it had been turned upside down. Without saying anything, she slowly raised her hand and pointed with a crooked finger towards the house where they lived. Just like this house, and all the other houses close by, they ware clad with red roof tiles, with white painted cement walls.

Basil came to the house, and gave it a knock. There was no answer. _They're_ probably still sleeping. Basil thought, giving another knock. This one, a bit harder. Still no answer. Then he went around to the other side, and looked inside the first window, casting light on a small living room. No one was there, and not in the kitchen either, which he saw when looking inside the other window.

"Makan." He mumbled to himself, walking over to the next house. This one was answered by a young-looking grey mouse with a trimmed beard on his cheekbone. He was clad a little better than the old lady, but nothing out of the norm; a simple brok, and a wool shirt. He looked a bit bemused over seeing Basil. Who was this man? He asked so as well. "I am Basil Ikum, newly designated detective by Lensman Sebastiansensen. I am looking for the Deinaren family. I need to talk to them as soon as possible." The young man looked at Basil with sharp eyes. He had never seen a detective before, but seeing as he was designated by the Police officer himself, it must have had something to do with criminal activity and such things. Bu the Deinaren hadn't been involved in anything like that. Unless… "Is this about their missing son?" he asked, folding his ears a little. "The family isn't home right now. They have gone to the priest of the Maria Church. The mail lady came with an important letter for the family. It came from the priest up in Isdalen. What stood in it, I don't know. I just so happened to snatch it up as they ran out the door earlier this morning." "I see." Basil replied. "Must have been important, seeing as their son was working together with the priest of Isdalen. Maybe he knows something. Anyway, do you know anything about the boy, could you have shared it with me?" he asked, taking up his notebook and the pencil. "C-come in, Mr. detective." The young man said, and they both walked inside.

"Theodor Deinaren was a childhood friend of mine." The young man said, whom had introduced himself as Knut said. "We knew each other very well, and we saw each other almost every day. Until one day he moved to the late arch bishop Neumann, may God bless him, to study the ways of the church. He told me in a letter that he had plans to move up to the church school in Isdalen to help the orphans up there, bastard sons as they were. He wanted to save them from Old Erik. Said there was a way to turn them. He had an affection for children. The pure ones, he called them. If a mouse could live like a child all its life, the path to Paradise was short walked. He was a bright one. Had ways to see things differently than everyone else. And he was a good preacher. Many a mouse had asked him to move to the Bergen cathedral and hold a few servings there, preach for them there, instead. But Theodor never wanted to. He remained in Isdalen. Although it has barely been five months. But I can't get my head around why he would so suddenly disappear, without even leaving a message. He never wanted to upset someone. Especially not his parents."

Basil took notes for everything Knut told him that he deemed useful and crucial.

"Don't you worry about it, Knut," Basil said, trying to brighten up the kid, who by now looked a dismal. "I will take a trip up to Isdalen now soon, and I will have a talk with the priest there. Maybe he knows what's happened. Thank you for all the information. You have been of good help. I'm sure we will get your good friend back." Basil said, shaking Knut's hand, who now seemed a bit brighter in his face. "I will pray for you to find him. God wouldn't turn that away." Knut said wagging his tail, and bidding Basil goodbye as he ventured back to the Unicorn courtyard.

Amalie sat in Basil's chair, looking out the window. Outside, she could see the ships return to the bay with their cargo full of fish and whatnot. Her stomach had given off a tiny growl, begging for a breakfast, but she didn't have any money on her. She had checked Mr. Ikum's desk, but had only found a couple of notes, papers and such. Mr. Ikum was nowhere to be seen, but she had spotted the key to the place. He had probably gone out to that place where the man from yesterday lived to gather clues, and then he had locked the door behind him. Then she heard light steps coming from the stairs, and her tail wagged a little. Maybe Mr. Ikum was coming back, and now they would go out for breakfast?

Indeed it was. Basil gave a knock on the door, saying: "Hello, Amalie? Are you there? It's me, Basil." Amalie had let out a small squeak of joy, and unlocked the door so Basil could get in. "Good morning, Mr. Ikum. Sorry I didn't wake up in time to come with you, but I had such a wonderful dream that I couldn't wake from it." She said, blushing a little. "It's alright, darling. You were sleeping so well. I tried my best to get you up, but with how heavy your sleep was, it would have taken a troll's roar to wake you up." He chuckled, giving Amalie a hug. She seemed to enjoy it, feeling a sense of protection and affection from her new cohabitant. She buried into his shirt carefully, like a little sister does to her big brother. "Did you discover anything?" She asked, sounding intrigued. "I did." Basil said. "Take a seat, and I will tell you. Afterwards, I'll take you to a tavern close by, and we'll have breakfast."

Amalie was quite impressed with what Mr. Ikum had managed to gather, and that just from one person. "I know where Isdalen is." Amalie said, seeing her chance to be of use to Mr. Ikum. "You have to go up Oscar's avenue to St. Jørgen's hospital, and then we will just keep walking to the right from it. After a long while, we'll go to the left, and then we should be there."

"Thank you, Amalie." Basil said, his tail wagging. "What should I have done without you? Come now. Let's have some breakfast. Egg and flesk with bread. A filling meal for us both." "O-ok, Mr. Ikum." Amalie said smiling, walking by Basil's side. "Oh, and one more thing, Amalie. There is no need to call me by my last name. Just call me Basil." Basil said in a calm, comforting tone. "Oh, ok." Amalie replied a bit shyly, her white fur growing a slight pink as she walked beside him.

Basil led Amalie up the narrow passageway, walking past other residents and workers carrying boxes and barrels. At the end of the courtyard was a small tavern, with a sign hanging over the door saying: _Baklommen. _They both entered and was met with the smell of salty butter mixed with lard being fried on the stove, the black tar covering the walls, and tobacco from one of the few others sitting scattered around the tables. Basil took Amalie over to the counter, and they rang the tiny bell placed there. A woman clad in a German-looking dress; black with white edges, and a green apron. She herself had a light brown fur color, with dark hair but up in a side braid. "Guten morgen, you two. What kann I gett for you?" She asked with a broken accent. It was clear for Basil that she could be a descendant from the member of the Hanseatic company. "Guten morgen, Fraulein." Basil said in a gentle manner. "We would like to have two blingses with Bacon and eggs, and two glasses of water." Aah, speck sandwich, ja. Coming right up, herrn." Afterwards, Basil and Amalie found a free table in the corner. Basil sat down on the bench, leaving the chair for Amalie. She was giggling a bit, putting her hand over her mouse. "What kind of a language was that?" she asked between her giggles. "I've never heard anything like that before." "She's from Germany," Basil explained, taking off his jacket and folding it up beside him. "I heard from my father that long ago, Bergen was the center for trading in Norway, and the entire dock was owned by a trading group called the Hanseatic League. They came from different parts of Germany, and were dominating all sorts of European trade in the days. It wouldn't surprise me that some of them would settle down here as time passed on. As for me knowing German; when I was in London, I would at times visit a tavern by the docks. It was also owned by Germans, and I managed to pick up a few sentences here and there."

Amalie was amazed, and she wagged her tail a little. "Wow. All the things you've been through. It must have been so exciting." "Well, it was for the most parts, but a journey is not without its obstacles. Like this one we are at now…" he was about to ask when the German waitress came over to their table with two sandwiches with egg and bacon inside. "Bitte schön. That will be 60 shillings." She said in the friendly, German tone, placing the plates on the table. Basil took up his wallet, giving the lady five shiny silver coins with the king's portrait on it, worth 12 schillings each. "Here you go. Keep the change." Basil said, giving her the money. Giving her thanks, she returned to the counter to continue her work.

"Thank you very much, Basil." Amalie said, munching on the thick, salty bacon slices together with the mighty rye bread, and the rounded eggs. It was as if she had never had anything better than that in her entire life. After they had eaten, before they left, Basil asked if they would need to pack anything for their journey up to Isdalen. "Well, we're going to pass a giant lake on our way up there," Amalie replied. "It's called Svartediket. About two years ago, we had a giant fire here in the city up by the square. The same year, a water plant was set up there, and it was now possible to get water right from the tap in your house. At least that's what I read from the newspaper that year. Apart from that, there's not a lot we need to take with us. We could actually just walk up there right now in fact."

And so they did. Upwards past the hospital, and to the right. They followed the cobblestone road there until Amalie said to turn to the left when the road began to bend, and a smaller road kept on going forward. In front of them, was one of the seven mountains surrounding the city, Ulrikken, and Amalie told Basil that they would have Ulrikken in front of them until they came to a sign pointing in two directions. There they would take to the left, and Svartediket would be right in front of them. It was a big lake, indeed, Basil thought. This would provide Bergen with water for all eternity if maintenance on the dam would be kept up.

There was a small path leading into the forest, and Amalie said they would have to follow the path until they came to a small river. There, they would follow it, until they came to a white-painted house. It was a long walk, and even though Basil in his younger years used to be outside wandering in forests all the time, he felt a bit tired after they reached their destination. The house was located on what could be described as a tiny farm, with the white house in the center, an outdoor toilet to its right, and a tar-covered storehouse. No questions this was made possible by the church. "Basil? Shall we give the door a knock?" Amalie asked, a little nervous. Ever since she was thrown out of Vestinden a year ago, she had prayed to God to get her a better life. Away from all the misery. It now seemed like she had, but the road to get there…she hoped it was worth it. "Let's do." Basil said, walking over. "I hope they have coffee." He gave the circular latch a couple of knocks, and soon after, he could hear heavy steps from inside, and the door was opened. There in the entrance, towering over them both, stood a giant, grey-furred, broad, and muscular rat. He was clad in black robes with a white neckwear. His tail, as thick as a snake, was encircling his feet.

He looked down at Basil and Amalie, a bit taken back by this gloomy appearance. But when the rat saw that he had visitors, his glance of gloom quickly switched to a welcoming smile. "Ah, welcome, my children." He said, stepping aside to let Basil and Amalie inside. His voice was by far the most native Basil had heard hitherto; it sounded as if the rat was cleaning his throat every single time he said an 'r'."Well, and what can I help you two with on this such a beautiful Saturday morning?"


End file.
